


Know Thyself / Blue in Green

by oh_god_not_again



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Gen, Mention of Mental Health Issues, don't worry Luther and Dave don't get together, luther goes to vietnam instead, luther has to face his issues, mention of body issues, mention of death / killing, war tw
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-14
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:35:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27554707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oh_god_not_again/pseuds/oh_god_not_again
Summary: Luther swung the briefcase around to his front to protect his vital organs. With any luck, Hazel would be put off-kilter by the kickback of the gun. But suddenly Hazel wasn’t poised to shoot anymore. Instead, he’d put his hands up and was gesticulating wildly and shouting something which was muffled by the huge rubber mask he wore. Luther, meanwhile, was both distracted and running at full pelt, and while neither of these necessarily led to a bad thing, they rarely came together without disaster. All Luther managed to do in response to Hazel’s panic was shoot him a quizzical look, before he tripped over a roll in the rug and disappeared in a blue flash.An AU where Luther is sent back in time instead of Klaus.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	1. Into the Frey

**Author's Note:**

> I was thinking about Klaus going to Vietnam and how it was probably the cruellest for that to happen to him on top of everything... but then I thought about the others and how it would be terrible for them too, but imo most of all... Luther. And so, this idea was born. It's short, but I've got more in mind if people are interested. Enjoy!

When he considered his life, everything about it had been strange. He was conceived and born within the same day, imbued with super strength and jumping abilities, and subsequently adopted by the most eccentric billionaire known to man. He was given training and a strong moral compass from an early age and fought for what was right, something which cost him his body as he grew into an adult. He’d had to mature from an early age, be a leader and a mediator. He’d even been to the moon, refocusing his energy in recent years on science and discovery. It certainly hadn’t been an easy life – he’d had to mature quickly – but it was his own; he was always doing what he loved, what he knew.

It was only after coming home for his father’s funeral that he realised just how little he might have really grown from being that precocious child. The arrival of his siblings had brought back old tensions and interruptions to his usually placid thoughts. It was all beginning to unravel at the edges. Had he spent four meditative years up in space, or was he merely sealed in a crypt where no one could hear him scream? Despite this, in a way getting the family back together provided a welcome distraction from his new predicament and the circumstances he was in now, brought about by two assassins looking specifically for his brother Five, tipped the balance of situational familiarity solidly into the past. This was a mission and, as much as he hated to admit it, he was back on his game.

Right now, he was fighting the broader imposter; Vanya had run, and Diego and Allison were busy taking the other one out downstairs. He and his contender were engaged in hand-to-hand combat, but only out of a lack of options. He’d already managed to disarm the attacker _–Hazel, was it?–_ of a dagger, but from the floor where he’d been knocked down, Luther could see their clash was about to turn deadly, fast. Hazel was breaking into their father’s antique weapons cabinet for a pistol. _I’d forgotten how much crap there was around here_ , thought Luther, as his body ran on autopilot and he heaved to his feet to interfere. _Damn_. Hazel would be too far away for him to get a clean strike to the back; instead he eyed the mysterious briefcase which had been strewn aside at the beginning of their fight. If the pair brought it, it had to be something useful, right? A shield, or something at least bulletproof by design? _Only one way to find out_ , he figured, then lunged for it. He’d assessed the situation correctly; no sooner had he picked up the case, Hazel was cocking the gun. He’d always known his training was beneficial, even if it hadn’t always felt like it. _Even if I didn’t want it_. All else aside, if this next move didn’t work out, things were about to get messy.

Luther swung the briefcase around to his front to protect his vital organs. With any luck, Hazel would be put off-kilter by the kickback of the gun. _Those things are more powerful than they look, friend_. But suddenly Hazel wasn’t poised to shoot anymore. Instead, he’d put his hands up and was gesticulating wildly _–towards the briefcase?–_ and shouting something which was muffled by the huge rubber mask he wore. Luther, meanwhile, was both distracted and running at full pelt, and while neither of these necessarily led to a bad thing, they rarely came together without disaster. All Luther managed to do in response to Hazel’s panic was shoot him a quizzical look, before he tripped over a roll in the rug and disappeared in a blue flash.

His eyes squeezed shut involuntarily and he could feel a burning sensation all over– no, it was more like a trillion tiny electrical sparks zapping him all at once. His blood boiled in a way he’d only experienced on the operating table and he only realised the experience could get get worse once his body felt as if it had been flattened and re-flattened into an ellipsis, before at last morphing back into three dimensions. His brain stung like he’d invaded a thousand hornets’ nests and the sparks twitching at every inch of his skin turned to a starving itch he knew no scratching would soothe. Suddenly, he sensed a warm smack of air on his cheek and he hit the ground.

*

He sat up and tried to consider the previous few moments – he had no idea how long each had actually lasted – but struggled, instead instantly aware of an assault on his nose from the deep stench of ingrained sweat and the barrage of gunfire and oncoming shouting invading his ears. His eyelids, still clenched along with his glutes, were forced open when he got a hard tap on the shoulder. Squinting, he saw a wide-eyed soldier staring back at him – at least, they were as wide as he could make them while still in the groggy aftermath of interrupted sleep.

‘Sorry,’ Luther said awkwardly, though he couldn’t relax. Instinctively, he fixed his posture.

Before the guy could murmur a response, all attention was drawn to a voice barking orders at the opening of the tent he found himself in. Luther swiveled around and noticed he was among ten or more soldiers, all clad in Class A fatigues. There wasn’t a whole lot to do during his downtime on the moon, except read the same few books he had about Earth. _It would’ve been handy if Dad had sent me a few more_ , he thought. Regardless, from the history he could remember, plus his current surroundings if he really was where he thought he was, it was clear things were not looking sunny.

‘Soldier!’ screamed a voice his way, ‘Am I getting through to you?’

Luther suddenly realised that he hadn’t been listening to a word the officer was saying.

‘U-uh–’

‘I said: Charlie’s on the wire! So stop stammering; grab a gun and a helmet and let’s go! We’ll find you a standard issue get-up in your size later, but only if we make it out alive. So get moving!’

 _What?_ At once a helmet was being shoved onto his head and a rifle thrust into his arms. _So this is happening. Why mention the shirt?_ Luther’s fingertips crept to the fabric over his abdomen and found the material torn. _Shit_. It must have been from the fight earlier. _How bad is it?_ A numb panic seeped into him from the shoulders down and made his chest heavy, but already he was being pushed towards the tent opening. _Did I put on my undershirt today?_ he wondered, as the blackening sky spread above him. Of course he had; he always did. Still, coming home had messed with his routine and being unable to check nagged him, even as he emerged into the chaos of the battlefield.

Someone was asking him if he knew how to use a gun. _Training coming in useful again_ , he mused. Absently, he nodded, then thought. His head flooded with questions. Was he going to have to shoot someone? Sure he’d fought, but he hadn’t had to– _been made to_ – kill someone since he was a child, give or take. Would he enjoy it, like he feared he’d enjoyed the missions the Academy went on as kids? Or, he catastrophised, might it awaken something new within him, something he believed he’d somehow managed to repress these past four years? If this really was Vietnam– _or Cambodia?_ –as he suspected, there were no clear-cut good or bad guys on either side. _Still, were there ever?_ What if he became one of those animals who killed for fun?

But what did it matter? He didn’t even want to be here, let alone stay here. As soon as he got out of this shit, he was heading back to the future. He couldn’t just leave the others in that situation without knowing that they were safe. He had to get back to them. _Here’s hoping I don’t have to fire this thing in the meantime_ , he thought of his gun. He tucked the front of his shirt into his trousers and moved quickly to catch up with the other soldiers ahead.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luther meets someone familiar...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to carry on with this! I'll do my best to leave short-ish gaps between uploads, but I'm a r e a l l y slow writer so that might not last. I do have some rough chapters prepared though, so hopefully it won't take me too long to get those ready to post. Enjoy!
> 
> Warnings at the end.

It was the ass-crack of dawn and Luther was stood on the fringe of a huddle of soldiers, waiting. They’d all been here since long before sunrise, waiting for orders. He’d briefly overheard rumours that they were being sent to a military base, though he didn’t follow up on them. _Whatever’s gonna happen’s gonna happen_ , he thought. Instead, his mind ran over the events of the last few hours in an attempt to organise his thoughts. The fighting had been brief, but intense. By the end of it, the unit he’d fallen into was in such a shambles that no-one questioned where he’d come from; when asked, he’d mumbled something distantly about being an escaped prisoner of war. Ultimately, after a day’s nonstop fighting he’d been considerably roughed-up, so nobody batted an eyelid. He was simply added to a newly-arrived unit which, incidentally, hadremained unscathed. So far, he was yet to meet any of them.

A short while later, the rickety transport bus finally reared its head over the horizon and tore from the road, screeching to a halt in front of them. As Luther waited at the front of the queue – he didn’t, after all, have any belongings to pile into storage – he began to stare in bewilderment at the journey ahead of him. He considered the hours-long, ass-breaking trip planned for his immediate future and afterwards he couldn’t stop his mind from drifting to what might await him at the end of it. In all honesty, he really hadn’t thought this far ahead. Throughout the firefight, his head had been racing with thoughts of 2019 and getting home; making up plans to beeline for the briefcase as soon as they were done, dreading what he might find once he got there. He’d never foreseen that the briefcase wouldn’t work. His stomach still flipped at the prospect of having to go through the physical side of time travel again, yet here he stood; in mismatching army fatigues, wanting nothing more than to be split down into his essence and then smeared back into existence by latent force. As far as his mental state went, it might as well have been happening now. His grip tightened around his torn shirt, itself wrapped around the briefcase handle. Suddenly, he heard a voice behind him.

‘Hey, man.’ It was the guy from earlier. _So he’s still around._ Less groggy than before, it seemed he had a much sunnier disposition than Luther had originally thought. Despite not exactly feeling in the mood for small talk, he resolved to engage with him; the last thing he needed was to draw contempt from the others, or become an outcast while he was stranded here – though ideally he’d prefer it if he could lie low. Begrudgingly, he remembered his father’s words. _First impressions are important, Number One_. He was just thinking about introducing himself when, abruptly, the guy knocked him on the arm to get his attention. Luther started; he must have been staring into space. _Shit._ He turned to face his companion.

‘Uh, hey,’ he replied with a curt smile and a nod. _Think of something to say, think of something to say… no idea where this is going, head empty; fuckkk–_

‘Lost in your thoughts?’ the other guy said easily, then let out a vaguely hollow chuckle. ‘I’ve been there,’ he mused, ‘– want one?’ He dexterously pulled a cigarette from a carton with his mouth and offered up the packet to Luther. Inexplicably, he took him up on the offer – it took considerable effort for him to pluck the tiny cigarette end from the opening, but he managed it without too much of an outward struggle. _Phew._

‘Thanks,’ he said, easier this time, as he held it between his fingers.

‘I’m Dave,’ said the other guy, lighting up.

‘Luther,’ he replied, then paused. ‘It’s a lot, huh?’ He gestured with his free hand to the bus, the growing queue behind them, their uniforms – distractedly, he noticed Dave had his sleeves rolled up – but if he could have done, he would’ve mentioned the humid air itself; the distant sound of helicopters that it carried; the very place and time they’d ended up in together. It was all completely absurd and very nearly overwhelming. He looked back over at Dave for a sense of understanding, but instead met with a quizzical look, which he immediately rallied back. Dave’s eyes continued to bore into him, until he finally voiced his confusion–

‘Aren’t you gonna… you know?’–he gestured towards the now rather frail-looking cigarette dangling from Luther’s other hand, then to his own smoking–‘…You need a light?’

‘Oh, right,’ said Luther humbly as he lifted his hand, now too staring at the rapidly crumpling cancer stick he was trying to hold lightly between his fingertips. Infuriatingly, his mind was rushed with memories of his recovery and with them, a pang of guilt. It wasn’t that the operation had substantially reduced his fine motor skills; he’d actually gotten back into his childhood hobby of building model planes as a part of his rehabilitation. Rather, it was nerves that shot his grip to bits. He’d never quite managed to get a hold over those. Nevertheless, by the time he left for the moon, Grace had told him his co-ordination was as good as it had been before his accident. _Accidents –_ he closed his eyes to push the thought away. It had felt gratifying to unburden Grace, even if he didn’t quite believe her words of encouragement himself. In general, he supposed he was the same as before; everything was just a little bit harder. ‘I– I don’t smoke,’ he replied eventually. ‘Sorry.’ _This went well._ Dave waited, sarcastic comment withheld when he saw the funk Luther was about to fall into.

‘Don’t worry about it,’ he said cheerfully, gesturing about the two of them, ‘Think of it as a welcome present, soldier.’ He laughed briefly. ‘I s’pose it’s a smart move anyways… These things’– he referenced his cigarette once more before taking a final drag out of the stub left –‘are like special currency ‘round here. Though, if you’re not into _cigs_ I doubt you’d find any of the trades particularly useful…’ he grimaced. Luther wasn’t sure of what exactly he meant by that, but he quickly decided he didn’t want to know. Dave simply grinned to himself, then nudged Luther and said in the subsequent mirth, ‘You know, I really think we could use a guy like you; someone to keep us on the straight and narrow. Someone good.’ Inwardly, Luther groaned. _He’ll find out what I really am soon enough,_ he figured. Oblivious, Dave stamped out his cigarette, then nodded to Luther’s jumbled outfit. He winked, clapping him on the shoulder. ‘See you around, Lost and Found,’ he said, then turned away.

Before Luther could respond, Dave was gone, vaguely smartening his uniform as he went. By the time he’d reached his destination, facing the long line of soldiers waiting to board the cramped–looking tin can of a vehicle parked in front of them, a different look had come across his face. Luther caught a glimpse of his insignia. _He’s a sergeant?_ Standing stock still alongside his fellow officers and his superior, it seemed Dave had been chosen to address the troops before them. He straightened his posture even further, then with a voice barely recognisable shouted, ‘ALLLRIGHT, GIRLS! BOARD THE BUS NUMBER ONE!’

Luther was so dumbstruck, he almost forgot how to follow orders. Almost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: references to accidents and recovery, some non-graphic intrusive thoughts, vague reference to self-harm
> 
> Hello! So, as you can see the chapters are pretty (read: extremely) short. I'm aware it might be better to release them in bigger chunks, but for the pace I'm writing at currently (a snail's), I think it's best to just release stuff when I'm happy with it. At some point, if this gets long enough, I'll probably condense groups of chapters into single ones. But until then, I'll probably be updating with little snippets like this :D

**Author's Note:**

> Sooo, that was that! Ik it's really short, but it's just a start; I've a few ideas in mind for angst and healing quite soon :)) I've been working on a really long Klave fic for ages so I just wanted to get something out in one sitting for once. Let me know what you think!!
> 
> EDIT [19-11-2020]: I feel like a clown for just releasing my first draft; I reread it and had to change parts of it. Hopefully now it represents Luther more as I see him in the show! :S Hope you enjoyed it!


End file.
